<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Slowly driftin' into a peaceful breeze by Wobbel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29653509">Slowly driftin' into a peaceful breeze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wobbel/pseuds/Wobbel'>Wobbel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Transecting lines [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Worst Witch (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, But I have the best of intentions, F/F, Forgive Me, Hicsqueak, Ignoring the confinement, Magical Pregnancy, Not Canon Compliant, This entered my head and would not leave, not terribly original</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:47:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29653509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wobbel/pseuds/Wobbel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been three months since she last saw Pippa. Since that night where all her carefully erected walls tumbled down and she had allowed herself the experience she had craved for since she was eighteen, perhaps earlier.</p><p>But then the visions started. And the signs emerged. Signs of something changing, stirring inside her, something borne out of her love for Pippa, growing in a place where nothing had ever stirred before.</p><p>Hecate visits Pentangle's with news, after having ignored Pippa for three months.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Transecting lines [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Slowly driftin' into a peaceful breeze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote down my head worm, in order to be able to focus on other things now, thank you very much...<br/>It is not very original but I hope you like it anyway. Non-native English speaker and no bèta.</p><p>Might as well make it part of a series, because I have many more ideas for this story. Also might include a flashback to the night of conception, because this hot pair deserves more explicit ratings &lt;3 Tell me I'm wrong, I dare you.</p><p>Title's from my all-time favourite song: Cruz by Christina Aguilera (co-writer Linda Perry). I am a child of the nineties, sue me. I love this song and it will be played at my funeral.</p><p>Also, I am (utterly inactive) on Tumblr @valleynausicaa, if that is in any way of interest to anyone.</p><p>And for those who follow my other story (Blame Aphrodite). I apologise for the delay of my next chapter. I have been struck by this very horrible (non-corona) stomach flu and have been out of commission for a while and then this head worm intervened. I hope to post another chapter before the weekend :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hecate slowly approached the doors to Pentangle’s Academy. As big and imposing as they were, Hecate imagined herself having nerves of steel by coming here today. It seemed fitting that these doors, mighty and unyielding, made from the strongest wood, would be the final horde to her destination.</p><p>It had been three months since she last saw Pippa. Since that night where all her carefully erected walls tumbled down and she had allowed herself the experience she had craved for since she was eighteen, perhaps earlier. Surprisingly, it were only two glasses of witches brew, a discussion of the virtues of rosemary root over dragonfly wings in a hair removal potion during a heated chess match (that she had won) and Pippa’s acknowledgement that she would always refer to Hecate’s potion making articles during their estrangement, while the firelight made her blonde locks shine and her eyes sparkle, that did her in. Pippa had stared at her a little too sensual for a little too long and Hecate had stumbled over and caught her mouth in a searing kiss. The night progressed from there to the frantic removal of clothes, hungry touches, lips and teeth on soft and sweaty skin and ragged cries of pleasure into the dark bedroom.</p><p>It simultaneously was the most amazing and most terrible night of Hecate’s life, for in the morning she knew she had to leave. She had to go before Pippa woke up and she would be confronted with the blonde’s shame and regret of what happened. Before she had to hear that they had crossed a line that never should have been crossed. Or worst of all, that this sidestep in their friendship, this hiccup if you will, would surely not do them in. ‘We could still remain friends, right Hiccup?’ And Hecate would have been unable to say no. She had never been quite able to deny Pippa anything.</p><p>So she had left. Left before Pippa had even stirred. Did not leave a note or a trace of magic behind. Hecate had packed up her clothes and her feelings and flew away as fast as her broom would go. Back home to where she was alone but all was safe and familiar, albeit somewhat boring with the girls away for the holidays. This was her home, where she would always be the witch she was without Pippa in her life. Where she would never tie this beautiful angel of light to herself, the bruja of darkness, as her grandmother would sometimes call herself. Hecate figured it an ample description for her as well, bruja under the moon, too low to be linked to someone so ethereal as Pippa.</p><p>The mirror calls and maglet messages from Pippa were ignored from then on out, and thanks to some invisible signal barriers she had surrounded Cackle’s with, Hecate avoided the other witch successfully whenever Pippa came around to try and talk to her. It had taken a month, much less time than the first time Hecate froze Pippa out, for the calls and messages to die down and eventually stop. When Hecate returned after Pippa’s last visit to Cackle’s, a tear-streaked letter was attached to the door of her chambers, a final goodbye she imagined. She did not read it, choosing to burn it instead.</p><p>But then the visions started. And the signs emerged. Signs of something changing, stirring inside her, something borne out of her love for Pippa, growing in a place where nothing had ever stirred before. And Hecate had ignored it, certain it would go away, that it could not be what the signs indicated, that it was not possible, even though she knew it was. Her own maternal grandmother, the <em>bruja de la oscuridad</em>, was the product of the love of two witches, which was a carefully concealed and guarded family secret. So Hecate knew, genetically it was possible and she was able to conceive with another witch.</p><p>The research and ancient texts she studied on the matter were never quite clear on how the child was created, on what the act was that resulted in conception. The instances it occurred too few and far between, seldom shared if it could be hidden away from the world. The connection between the witches making them able to reproduce together also remained uncertain, as far as Hecate was concerned, although the few witches who shared their tales, either willingly or by force, did consider their tie to be of the nature of ‘true love’. Hecate had scoffed to herself at that. What did these witches know? Pippa may be the only one Hecate would ever love in her entire life, she was assuredly not and would never be Pippa’s soul mate.</p><p>And now here she was, anxious and trembling, hesitating to knock. In the two months since she had begun to realise her predicament, she had thought and analysed, worried and woed, weighed everything over and over in her mind. In the end she had been unable to do anything about it, unable to terminate, unwilling to erase the gift that that night had provided. She had loved it, loved her (for it could only be a her, biology being that much involved) from the moment she had become aware of the small life inside her. And now she was coming into her second trimester and soon she would be starting to show. So she would be needing to tell people around her and she would be damned if she let Pippa hear this from anyone but herself. She owed her oldest friend that much.</p><p>Unsure of how long she had been standing in front of the doors, Hecate raised a fist and knocked, four times in quick succession, her presence forewarned for someone who knew her well enough. She wondered if Pippa did, then again, she had wondered often about what Pippa still knew about her and the blonde had always managed to perplex Hecate with the things she remembered.</p><p>The doors remained undisturbed for quite some time, minutes, possibly five, but Hecate did sense a presence eventually, Pippa’s essence on the other side. Nerves wracked through her body, navigating along her cells and sensitizing her extremities. Sounds of rushing blood invaded her ears and her eyes became dry while her vision was hazy with dust. Hecate knew Pippa was poking out with her magic, trying to gauge Hecate’s mood and make out her intentions from there. Hecate let her, staying still and silently allowing her own magic to meet Pippa’s, letting them comingle in the wood of the double doors, hopefully letting the other witch know she came here with an honest and true purpose.</p><p>Perhaps it worked. Or perhaps Pippa realised Hecate would not give up easily and she wanted to avoid a scene in public. The doors opened and Pippa appeared on the threshold, clad in beautifully tailored light grey slacks and a fitted pink jumper, her hair in a high ponytail. Her face was a little bleak, less vibrant and filled than the last time Hecate had seen her, but she attributed that to the stress of a new term. She herself had had enough trouble already with the new batch of first-years at Cackle’s, and the other years trying her patience and retesting their boundaries, so she imagined the hassle the headmistress of Pentangle’s would experience each September.</p><p>“Hecate.” It was said in a sigh, tired and low, not particularly negative but not positive either. Pippa remained standing in the doorway, one hand on the opened door and the other on the closed one, being an effective barrier Hecate had to work to be able to cross. What she did from here on out would determine the future of them and their child. She took two deep breaths, exhaling slowly and releasing some of the tension in her shoulders and neck, keeping her eyes on the blonde the entire time.</p><p>“Hello Pippa.” It was a simple beginning but an important one. She had never navigated waters as crucial as this, the only other time she and Pippa had reconciled it had been the other witch who had taken the lead and Hecate had only needed to follow and not botch everything up. This time would be up to her and she was nothing if not committed to succeed. “May I come in?”</p><p>The look Pippa gave her was wary, bags under her eyes accentuated by the setting sun, and Hecate craved to pull her into a hug and take all her worries and cares and make her laugh as she used to, before the gargantuan mistake that was her utter betrayal, or make her giggle like when they were children and Pippa giggled over just about anything Hecate said and did. There was also a hint of fear, Hecate was shocked to see, in Pippa’s eyes. Fear of what, Hecate could imagine. Would Hecate hurt Pippa again? Would she hurt Pippa more this time? Would she finally break Pippa?</p><p>“I suppose you may.” An elementary statement but one that said plenty. As much as Hecate was helpless to deny Pippa, Pippa had never seemed able to stay away, to not allow Hecate entrance into her life again, to make her part of her life in any small way. Even during their estrangement, the blonde would send Hecate invitations to her family’s holiday celebrations, flowers on her birthday and notifications of gatherings for educators. There were years when Hecate would throw them away unopened but many more years where she held them, smelled them and cherished them until she would break late one night and burn them all.</p><p>The blonde let go of the opened door and stepped to the side, creating an opening for Hecate to step through. “Thank you.” The whisper was lost in the grand hall of Pentangle’s, imposing in its own right, but likewise cosily displaying Pippa’s personal touches. Hecate abruptly realised she had made the right choice by coming here for this conversation. This being the place where both she and Pippa would be comfortable, Cackle’s being only her home but probably not as safe a place for the other witch. She released a little more tension, from her arms this time.</p><p>“My chambers?” Pippa did not wait for her reply to transfer them and Hecate felt somewhat unnerved but did not comment, feeling deserving of Pippa’s bother, having come here unannounced after three months of silence. They rematerialized in Pippa’s office, not her sitting room, and Hecate thought it fitting for the discussion that would follow. She would never expect it to become more than a practical dialogue about responsibilities and co-parenting agreements, which would be best suited to Pippa’s place of business. An offer of tea would therefore also not be part of her expectations.</p><p>Wordlessly, Pippa sat in the chair facing the door and Hecate followed suit in the chair on the opposite side of the exquisite mahogany desk. It was messy, as most of the surfaces in Pippa’s rooms usually were and always had been. Hecate had often commented on the blonde's lack of organisation in the past until she had come to recognise the way Pippa’s mind worked. She needed the appearance of chaos, it reflected the inside of her head, was familiar to her and felt like home, therefore it worked for her. In all the disarray, Pippa rarely lost anything and always knew where everything was. It was one of the many things that endeared her to Hecate.</p><p>Leaning forward with her elbows rested on the desk and her chin held up by her hands, Pippa regarded her askance, and Hecate had to swallow a few times before she was able to commence her account. “Thank you for receiving me, Pippa. I feel undeserving of your grace.” Pippa scoffed and Hecate knew she should rapidly come to the point, ere she would find herself transferred outside the castle before she had said all she had come to say. Hell hath no fury…</p><p>“I realise I have behaved abhorrent and have mistreated you. I am truly sorry.” She kept her eyes on the blondes, hoping to convey her sincerity through the contact. Pippa’s eyes had lost some of their cool and a small flush had appeared high on her cheeks. “The reason I am here today is not to make amends, although I would appreciate if you would allow me to attempt that in the future. The purpose for my visit today is the unintended result of our – ” And there she lost her footing. Stumbling and grasping at all that she could, she tried to ease her fall.</p><p>“Well, you see, something has happened. And try as I might, I will not be able to conceal it much longer. Therefore I firmly believe you need to hear it from me, and not another, as soon as possible.” Rambling, she knew she was rambling, all her carefully practiced words had flown out of her broomstick bristles on the way here and she was left a blubbering mess. How could Pippa invariably reduce her to only a basic functioning witch by just being in her presence?</p><p>“What is it, Hecate?” The words had an angry edge that caused Hecate’s stomach to contract quite painfully. She swayed a fraction forward in her chair at the torment and lost eye contact, missing the worry emerging in the blondes eyes, extinguished just as quickly. After having taken another pair of deep, long breaths, Hecate straightened and pursed her lips, preparing for the barrage of questions that would follow her next proclamation. “I’m pregnant.”</p><p>The gasp from Pippa was ragged and loud in the quiet office. Her face displayed a myriad of emotions, ranging from shocked to hurt, tender to disinterested, ending in exasperated, Pippa threw up her hands. “Why are you telling me this?” Her voice wavered somewhat, floating on a river of hurt that Hecate recognised from the time Pippa pleaded for her to return their friendship in their final year of school. Another shooting pain blasted through her chest and she stifled her own gasp.</p><p>“Do you remember the secret I told you in our fifth year? The night you snuck a goblet of witches brew from the teachers’ Yule party and we drank it on the roof?” It had been a recurring theme of their friendship, the sharing of secrets, she and Pippa eventually becoming the only two who knew any and all about the other. Hecate had never before, or since, told anyone a family secret, but the warmth of the brew and Pippa’s knees against her side had loosened her resolve as well as her tongue. Afterwards, Hecate realised she wanted to know the beautiful blonde’s reaction to the possibility of two witches loving each other as well.</p><p>Pippa had stayed still, not moving any of her taut muscles except for her jaw, which was haltingly going up and down. The sight was somewhat amusing, if it wasn’t so disconcerting at the same time. “The story about your mother’s mother? How she was conceived of two witches?” Apparently Pippa had rediscovered her voice and she remembered the night as well. Despite everything, Hecate smiled at her. “You remember.” A portion of warmth had returned to Pippa’s eyes. “Of course I remember, Hecate. What are you saying exactly?”</p><p>This was it, the moment that held all the weight of the night. Hecate chose her words carefully and spoke low and heavy. “I’m saying that I have not shared anything <em>intimate</em> with another in, well, long enough for this to be anyone else’s child but yours.” Her eyes held Pippa’s in an intense gaze, piercing enough to convey her honesty but not quite as fierce to make the blonde uncomfortable. “I mean I know she is yours.” Pippa’s face had frozen in a visage of disbelief, her breaths shallow and distinct.</p><p>Then, as a sun arising, the biggest, broadest smile Hecate had never before seen, grew on Pippa’s face, until her face glowed like Hecate remembered her hair would under the noon sunlight. The vision was so incredibly and breathtakingly stunning that Hecate tilted backwards, her back curled over the back of her chair. She missed the sudden movement of the other witch until she stood in front of her and Hecate was looking up as blinded as if she was looking into the actual sun. Two soft but firm hands grasped her head and the sweetest lips of all captured her mouth in a passionate kiss.</p><p>“What?” It was the first thing Hecate could let out after the kiss ended. She had expected anger, resentment, astonishment, disbelief and even amusement, but not this. Not acceptance and happiness and love that burst out of Pippa’s eyes and radiated from her face. Hecate’s hands had come up from her lap during the kiss and were suspended between the arms of the chair and Pippa’s hips. As if seeing it as an invitation, Pippa turned her body and sat sideways on her lap, one arm looped around Hecate’s neck, the other brushing stray lipstick from Hecate’s chin.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” It was said with mirth and laughter and Hecate could not fathom why Pippa would apologize to her, what she ever had to be sorry for. Hecate was the one that always said and did things that hurt Pippa, never really cruel but often unkind, even when she wanted nothing more than to love and cherish and worship her, only her. Even if she did not know how to love, if she never knew how to give and receive, even if that was something that was never and would never be part of her.</p><p>Without warning, they materialised in Pippa’s sitting room. The hard-backed chair Hecate had sat in changed to a soft arm chair that sat perpendicular to the fireplace facing its twin. Pippa’s arm around her neck tightened. “Goddess, that’s her, isn’t it?” Pippa had gotten a dreamy look in her eyes, staring into the distance. “When I transferred us to my office earlier tonight something was off. I didn’t realise, too distracted by the shock of seeing you, but here was something extra, an extra quality of magic in the mix.” She gasped. “It felt familiar, as if it recognised me, as if it said ‘hello’. Was that our baby?”</p><p>Pippa had let her free hand fall and it hovered in front of Hecate’s stomach, both of the witches watching it, waiting to see what it would do. “I suppose.” A frog had made its way into Hecate’s throat and her voice sounded coarse but no moisture found its way into her mouth at the moment. She needed to get a grip, get back some tiny sliver of control of herself before she could try to get control over this situation.</p><p>But Pippa was so close, and she felt so right and smelled just like the dew-kissed saffron crocus that peek their tiny heads out when the winter’s ending but the cold still reigns. The one flower Hecate had always loved the most, for its unassuming beauty and strength, not unlike a certain blonde witch herself. She lowered her hand to the arms of the chair, them being higher than the ones of the office chair, her hands only moved a little, but it was enough for Pippa to snap out of her reverie.</p><p>“I apologise. I’m quite crowding you, aren’t I?” She stood and sat in the opposite chair, her hands wringing in her lap. Hecate instantly missed her smell and warmth and the comforting pressure on her legs. She wanted to say that it was fine, that she was fine, that all was well, despite that it obviously was not, or at least she was not. So she smiled, hoping to convey some kind of reassurance.</p><p>Pippa stood again, flicked her wrist to light a fire and started pacing, from the side of her chair to the bookcase on the other side of the room and back. Hecate’s eyes followed her, watching as the ponytail swung and caressed her cheek at every turn. She ached to feel that soft hair and was jealous of the ends that stroked the cheeks she wanted to touch.</p><p>“I knew you were scared. I’ve always known you were scared, of love and of friendship, of any kind of affection. I let you set the pace of our reinitiated closeness. But I guess I got brash and a little too comfortable in the ease of our interactions. And you caught a fright and ran away.” A slow and heavy sigh. “Again.” She had stopped facing Hecate and she felt a flush spread around her face at Pippa’s bold stare, so similar to one she had received during their intimate relations.</p><p>“But you love me.” Said in a smile. “You do. You would not be receptive to conceive otherwise.” She sat down again, on the edge of the seat, leaning closer to Hecate with her elbows on her knees, her hands almost touching Hecate’s knees. “And I love you. You realise that, do you?” The gaze was expectant but words had apparently transferred out of Hecate’s head. She tried a shake and a nod and it resulted in a diagonal jerk, her face a mask of fear.</p><p>Pippa shot upright and laughed. “You silly, stupid, obstinate, cantankerous, utterly oblivious witch!” Hecate’s eyes grew and her eyebrows rose, her head hitting the chair back in its haste to retreat. Pippa softened, a small smile gracing her face and her eyes shone bright and wet. “Hecate?” She waited patiently until Hecate breathed slower and regular again. “Do you love me?”</p><p>Yes. Yes! She had never not loved Pippa. Not once since she had met her, not once since the smallest girl in their first-year class, always friendly and kind to everyone, had yelled to the upper year bullies that had knocked Hecate down in the corridor to ‘back off’, and, after they left with taunting words, had held out her hand and helped Hecate up, instantly being soft and gentle again. She had loved her that first day and it never weakened a smidge.</p><p>She needed to say it, tell the truth. Not that lying would ever be something she would do to Pippa. Hecate might omit something, keep things, feelings, to herself, in order to protect Pippa, save her from awkwardness and humiliation, to conserve the parameters of their friendship, but she would never ever lie to her oldest friend. Breathing in as full as her lungs could go, the word was pushed out with the air. “Yes.” And it was the finest thing she ever said, because Pippa squeaked, beamed, glowed, jumped up and sat in her lap again, kissed her and all was well.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>